


Meet The Dads

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Future, Humor, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-28
Updated: 2006-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: "Where did we go wrong, Sunshine? A son is a lesbian, the other is a whore for pussy, a niece failing miserably at being a dyke..."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks, Sam, for rescuing and providing this first time author in this fandom with your beta skills. So all the mistakes are mine because sometimes I’m too stubborn to listen to whom I should. *g*  


* * *

Meet the Dads - Part 1

 

Trisha was sure that some time between counting the vegetable crates her  
company was delivering to Leguma (Gus' organic restaurant in New York)  
two days prior and the amazing sex she and Gus had had this morning, he  
had explained yet again why they were driving all the way to Pittsburgh  
for a visit with his parents - or rather his dads. But whenever Gus  
started with the Sunshines and Daddies and Pops and (God forgive him) one  
or two Sluts and Whores, she knew she would be more successful at  
understanding the dynamics of the zucchinis lying in the crates in the  
trucks.

Very early in their relationship Gus had tried to tell her that in order  
to talk about grandmas and grandpas, uncles and aunts, and brothers and  
sisters that were but weren't and would fight tooth and nail to prove  
they were he would need graphics and diagrams and DNA proofs. He had been  
painting her toenails then and it had taken him ten seconds of silence to  
notice her staring at him mouth agape. He just shrugged and started  
talking while the nail polish made her toes pearl colored. By the time  
her fingernails were pearl colored too, she asked him to get out his  
photo album and start over. Trisha had thought she had understood every  
little bit of everything, but with Gus' family there was always something  
new happening. Still, they were all the same.

The explanation could wait another couple of hours until they got to Bri-  
Tin, but then Gus started to sing and she could only take so much of his  
singing around their apartment. And if she told him anything - no matter  
how nicely she did - he would just sing louder.

Seducing him was much more effective.

Talking was second best.

"Why are we celebrating your dad's forty-fifth birthday again?"

Gus pushed his glasses up his head and she promptly put them back in  
place.

"I love this song."

"Huh?"

"You do this all the time. I start to sing and you want to talk. Or have  
sex."

"That's not true."

Gus moved his tongue inside his mouth and waited.

Yes, there was sex, of course. What could she do if annoyed and cursing  
Gus was adorable and gorgeous and all hers to do as she pleased? Most of  
the times, anyway.

Knowing he had gotten her in her lie, Gus smirked, batted his  
pornographic blue eyes at her and reached for the MP3 player. She was  
faster and forwarded to the next song.

"What the fuck, Trisha?!"

Thank God he was also easy. Fluttering fingers on the shell of his ears,  
any of them, any given time, and he was as gone as an ice cube under the  
sun.

"It's Pops'," he said in that tone that announced that he had lost the  
battle, not the war.

He wished!

"I know it's Mr. Taylor's. I just thought you considered the two of them  
your dads."

He smiled and everything in him grew softer.

"Of course I do. And Pops is something you'll only understand when you  
meet him."

Trisha kind of understood her boyfriend. Each of the few times she had  
talked to his Pops on the phone, she got a whole new concept of  
"Sunshine".

"Anyway, they had a dinner celebration on Pops' birthday. It was last  
Tuesday."

"I know. I answered the phone when he called to thank us for the gift,  
remember?"

"Just the grannies, grandpas - if you can call Tucker grandpa - and  
uncles for dinner. Grandma Debbie said she would curse him from her grave  
if he didn't show up at her house," Gus continued as if he hadn't been  
interrupted at all.

He did it from time to time when he decided a commentary or note was not  
worthy of his attention. She overlooked this bad behavior because he was  
such a gentleman in so many other aspects that in the beginning, given  
his background and good looks, she was convinced he was a gay man trying  
not to be.

"Pops loves Grandma Debbie and Dad loves Pops and fears Grandma, so Dad  
made sure both of them showed up at her house at 7:00 looking fan-  
fucking-tastic."

They shared another laugh, his more affectionate than hers, like he did  
whenever he talked about his fathers.

"Tomorrow will only be the youth and the babies, as Dad put it."

Trisha couldn't help but smile while still tending to his ear.

"If you don't want me to pull over and make us even later, you'd better  
stop doing that, sweetheart."

She paid him no attention.

"Of course, neither Dad nor Pops would mind. However we'd have to tell  
them, and the Dads love details. No problems there because you know how  
accurate I can be..."

"OKAY! See? Hands in the air! No hands!"

Gus smirked and Trisha wondered why she cared.

"So if we're the babies, who are the youth?"

Gus checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes.

"You're aware that if Dad catches you talking like this, you'll be put on  
his witches' list, right?"

Trisha zipped her lips and threw the imaginary keys away through the  
rolled up window. She didn't want to piss off Mr. Kinney. She was  
constantly both in awe and scared shitless of the man. Right now being  
scared shitless was winning hands down.

"Will you relax?" Gus said, for a moment squeezing her left hand with his  
right one. "Dad is a pussycat. Either hold your ground with him or show  
awe in the first fifteen minutes you are face to face and you'll be good.  
If neither works, do your best to fall in Pops' good grace. Believe me,  
it's not hard. Whatever happens first, you'll get almost anything from  
Dad later."

She relaxed a little. "That's what life with Daddy taught you?"

"No. That's what I learned when I stopped being a teen and started paying  
attention to Sean."

Whenever Gus talked about the first five years of his life as a big  
brother to Sean, he got this shadow that made him look twenty-five years  
older with regret. There hadn't been problems because Sean was black. Gus  
had sworn it over the last joint they were sharing the first time they  
had discussed Sean's name in a more profound way.

Of course they had both been way too high to make sense, and the swearing  
could have gone both ways. But Trisha trusted her boyfriend. Gus didn't  
lie. Besides he wouldn't be with her if being black was a problem.

Gus restarted once again like there had not been any interruptions at  
all, and Trisha let him because she knew he needed it.

"But if you want the list, Dad and my mothers, uncles Michael and Ben,  
Ted and Blake, Emmett and his new significant other, and probably Cynthia  
and her husband are the youths. Sean, JR and her beau, moi and ma belle  
(she rolled her eyes), Hunter and his wife, Aunt Molly and Uncle Keith,  
and very much possibly Aunt Daphne and Uncle Charlie and, of course,  
Pops, are the babies. Oh, and Pops invited some friends of his from work  
over to Babylon, too. Don't ask me where they fit."

She liked this family better with each passing minute.

"It's sweet of your dad to do this for your pops. You said he doesn't do  
birthdays."

"Not his, but he could never really deny Pops anything. So this Friday  
night you'll have the pleasure of sharing a meal with our ever growing  
and loving family," she kissed his cheek and this time she did not feel  
offended when he kept talking, "at our Diner - which will be closed just  
for us - and dance the night away in the VIP lounge at Babylon. And  
before you ask, we can go on the dance floor if we want to."

"That'll be nice. I've never been to a gay club before," she admitted  
shyly.

"Well, enjoy the show, sweetheart, because your first time will be at the  
best gay club in town."

Gus shrugged again and she braced herself because it usually was the  
prelude to something Mrs. Marcus called Kinney-dimensioned.

"Well, you're with a Kinney. Couldn't expect anything less."

She clucked her tongue because she knew he hated it, and in a moment of  
distraction he got hold of the MP3 player.

She desperately looked for something saying this torture wouldn't last  
long.

"Come on, Gus," she pleaded.

Too late.

"SINCE IN THE WORLD I SAW YOU"

He was already singing.

"AND IT'S ALL RIGHT  
BOUNCING AROUND FROM CLOUD TO CLOUD"

A sign reading Pittsburgh was twenty miles away wasn't what she was  
praying for.

"EVERYTIME I TRY TO TALK TO YOU"

"You... You don't...even...know..."

"COMES OUT WRONG AND NEVER TURNS UP RIGHT"

"...the lyrics!"

"SO I SAY WHY DON'T YOU AND I GET TOGETHER  
AND TELL THE WORLD THAT LALALALA FOREVEEER"

*****

 

End Part 1. Continue in Part 2.

*****  



	2. Part 2 - Mr. Justin Taylor

  
Author's notes: Again, thanks Sam for your priceless help. There may be some small changes ( no plot wise, mostly grammar ) in the future. I'm just curious about how this is going to work. *g*   


* * *

  
Part 2. Disclaimer and everything else in Part 1.  
  
"There's my boy!"   
  
Like Gus had predicted, his Pops was already waiting for them at the door to his and his spouse-in-a-non-conventional-way's house.   


Or rather, Trisha blinked, trying really hard to keep her awe in check, mansion.   


Mr. Taylor crushed his son, who was taller than him by at least a foot, in a tight hug and welcomed Trisha with a kiss on the cheek, a blinding smile and a blurted but no less sincere, "Aren't you adorable?"   
  
Gay or not, with those blue eyes and the warmth behind them, Trisha would be anything he wanted! He was all the beauty and smiles Trisha had seen in pictures plus a charm that was captivating and his own. God bless Gus for having had his arm around her shoulders, otherwise his Pop's feet would be immersed in Trisha!goo.   
  
After greetings were over, Mr. Taylor led them through many doors and rooms - filled with enough furniture to finance the vacation in Europe she and Gus were dreaming of taking - to a huge and expensively well quipped kitchen.   


Good chef that he was, Gus got busy chopping vegetables and boiling water while sipping a beer and catching up with his Pops, who graced Gus with furtive glances between strokes of pencil over the pad in his hands. Trisha was content just sipping French mineral water and listening to them, sitting at the counter beside Mr. Taylor and talking only when talked to, which Mr. Taylor did quite often.  
  
"So what's Gus like as a customer?"  
  
"A bitch, Mr. Taylor. Always asking for a discount on the zucchinis."  
  
Mr. Taylor shook his head and sighed. "A Cheap bitch. Just like his father at his age. And please, it's Justin."

"She makes me water the damn things on the weekends, Pops," Gus protested   
from the stove. "Sometimes I even have to harvest them."   
  
"You haven't done that in a while," Trisha rushed to say, terrified Mr. Taylor would misjudge her because a "poor-me" Gus could be quite convincing.   
  
Hell, it had almost cost her the price of her zucchinis!  
  
"Because I got wiser. Now we just stay at the apartment instead of going to the zucchini patch from hell. No fucking zucchinis to water, harvest or whatever else the fuck."   
  
Trisha was mortified.  
  
Tongue between teeth, Gus had blown the F word at her. Twice.  
  
From the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Taylor doing nothing to hide his amusement. 

Perhaps shoving her boyfriend's face in the concoction he was stirring on the stove to make him feel the hotness she was feeling could be considered a domestic accident?

"Your father never minded harvesting the fucking zucchinis when he was your age. In fact, he was all for the hunt," Mr. Taylor said, his words trapped in twisted longing and with no discomfort at all.   


"Come on, Pops. Legend has it that zucchinis of all shapes and sizes were all over Dad all the time. He didn't have to go after them."  


"Oh, he did. Once or twice he did."  
  
"How can you be so sure? You didn't even know Dad when he was twenty-seven."  


"Your point being...?"  
  
"Nothing." Beer in hand, Gus joined them at the counter. "Just that you didn't know him then."

"Your Grandma Debbie knew him. And Michael, and your mothers, and Emmett, and..."   
  
"Okay, Pops. You got me at Grandma Debbie," Gus said, raising his hands in surrender. "And Mamma had associated Dad with sluts every now and then."  
  
"Mel? Only every now and then? Be serious."  
  
"Okay, so quite regularly." Gus laughed. "When I was eight or nine I squared up to her because I had learned slut was a word for women, and my Dad was a man. I think she might have been tongue in cheek when she agreed with me and said consensus was Dad was the best man around."   


After a second or two, index finger drumming against his cheek and an occasional sip of his beer, Gus mused, "He couldn't have been that bad. You've put up with him for over twenty years." Then, pensive he asked, Was he that bad?"  


"That bad? No, not at all. He was, is, that GOOD."  
  
It took Gus another second or two to understand Mr. Taylor's not so subtle implication and all mischievous smile.  


"Jesus, Pops! You're my dad! You can't talk about your husband, who happens to be MY dad, this way. It's... Jesus!"  


"I beg your pardon, Son."  
  
"That's it. Son. I'm your son, and dads do not talk about their sex lives with their kids."  


"Who's talking about sex? And you're hardly a kid anymore."  
  
"I'll never be old enough to... Jesus! Just don't, Pops. Poor Sean. You don't do this to the kid, do you?"  


Pops laughed and walked to his son, who by now had put the counter and the stove between them, and hugged him. "Sure do, kiddo. You and Sean are cute. Your brother actually... Trisha? Everything okay?"  
  
Cough! Cough!  
  
"Raise your arms, Sweetheart. And stop laughing. This is not funny and you're not helping.   


She wished she could, but her eyes were smarting and her throat was burning and her was body shaking. And damn the water that was coming out through her nose because it had gone through the wrong pipe and damn Gus and his Pops for being so cute together.  


When she finally got the coughing fit under control, she was on her toes with her face buried in Gus' shoulder and Mr. Taylor was handing her another glass of water.  
  
"You okay?" Gus asked, running his fingers in her hair, drying the tears on her face.  


She smiled, her breathing and raspy voice still not back to normal. "Sorry. I'm okay now."  


"Can I let you go now?"  
  
"No. I'm fine here." Gus kissed her forehead and she tightened her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor."  


"It's Justin. And don't worry about it." Putting the glass of water back on the counter, he patted his son's back. "No more talking about sex, son."  
  
"Thank God. Besides I didn't drive Trisha here to hear about yours and dad's sexual adventures."  


Mr. Taylor looked a little embarrassed. Trisha just wanted to make him feel better.  


Really.  
  
"Oh, but I wouldn't mind..."  
  
And when Gus started his own coughing fit and Mr. Taylor burst out laughing, Trisha realized she had just put both of her feet in her mouth.  


Putting together the shreds of her dignity, she asked Gus where the bathroom was. With a killer gaze he pointed her in the right direction. She scurried there, but still heard Mr. Taylor - Justin - reinforce his heory that she was adorable.

Trisha splashed water on her face, cussed and admonished herself in the mirror, and waited until embarrassment was no longer making her face burn too much.   


Back to the kitchen, the scene that greeted her gave her the eerie idea that Bri-Tin had somehow shrunk, leaving only enough room to accommodate Gus and Mr. - Justin.  
  
Mr. Kinney and his twisted smirk had just arrived and taken whatever empty spaces in the house with them.  
  
*****  
  
End Part 2. Continue in Part 3.


End file.
